Saptanga
by Aeria Swordlancer
Summary: Seven oneshots for Jerza Week 2014
1. Passion

**Exactly what it says on the tin.**

**Saptanga means "Seven Parts" in Sanskrit.**

**Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima**

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**Saptanga**

**by Aeria Sworldancer**

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**-DAY 1-**

**Passion**

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Passion that one night had been their requiem.

A piece each of their souls uniting, spiralling upwards in the throes of ecstasy, and then hurtling earthwards to dissipate into a flame of agony.

A moment of an ethereal bliss here, another of an eerie emptiness there.

It'd been their last resort.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

With the bugles still ringing in their ears and their hearts thumping in anticipation of an impending war, they lock their lips and tear each other's clothes, moving hastily towards the makeshift bed lying in the corner of their designated tent at the basecamp.

Perhaps, it isn't a good time to do this, nor is it the right place, but if not for this grabbed opportunity, they would probably die with their hearts full of some soul-shattering regrets.

And life, my friend, is too short for such troublesome things to take the better of you.

"Stay safe, stay well," she says – pleads rather – biting his lip and running her nails down his bare back as she lowers him onto the crude platform. Her voice is raspy, hoarse and uncertain; uncertain, because she doesn't know if her request would carry much weight tomorrow when the demons would finally descend upon them all, starting a battle whose outcome is nothing but a foggy aspect of their already bleak futures.

She tries to convince herself this isn't their last night together as she kicks the bedside lamp off the nightstand to let its flame flicker to dissolution. She's partially convinced there will come a time when she'll get to demand an encore of their actions to follow, but her intuition sourly says otherwise.

Erza Scarlet has always been a girl torn between logic and instinct. It's a curious mix of what she used to be as a kid at the tower and what she is right now.

Jellal responds to her request with a low grunt somewhere deep inside his throat, his hands caressing every possible inch of his lover's skin available for him to touch. He kisses her in a frenzy – teeth nipping some skin here, lips dragging against the column of her neck and tongue tasting the sweet valley of her breasts.

It's chaos and perfection; pieces falling apart and then coming back together in a way that has him reeling with ecstasy within seconds. He's holding on tight; his hands are gripping his lover, as if afraid she might disappear if he so much as let his attention slip for a second. She's doing her best to tether herself to him as well, her arms latched onto his back and shoulder as she readjusts herself to guide her opening to his length.

It's a first for them; a moment that should have been special, had it not been for the King of Hades and his vile schemes against their side. With a day left before the decisive battle, Erza and Jellal – two lost souls finally giving into that force of gravitation they've both consciously and unconsciously ignored so far – decide it's time to let it all out.

A decision with which they set the world on fire. (Like they have always meant to, but didn't have the courage to).

She chants his name to the heavens and he grunts hers into her heaving bosom, both moving in sync to reach their pinnacle together. It's like a maddening rush to the horizon, which, of course, runs farther away from reach the more they open their arms in welcome. It's endless, it's infinity; yet, it's achievable and close – too close for comfort – as they still reel under the shock of finally being able to do this with each other.

A union long time in the making.

A union transient.

Ephemeral.

She feels the tremendous weight of these words, of this realisation, gnaw at the back of her mind as she rides herself to abandon. These are words that tear at her sanity, her determination to move forward with thoughts positive and euphoric. She can't help but think if she's fallen too far to ever get back up to the surface again because never in her life has Erza Scarlet let the gallows loom so prominently around herself.

She seems to have fallen too far in her devotion to a man with whom she thinks she isn't ever going to see the light of the day again.

"Jellal," the name comes out in a way that suggests she thinks he'll stay if she says it with a little more devotion and longing. Even as her arms encircle his shoulders to stay in place as he thrusts up heatedly into her core, making her experience things she's never experienced before, all she can think about is whether or not she'll ever get to hold his hands again, ever get to feel his breath against her shoulder again.

The tears that come should have made an appearance a long time ago.

He's quick to switch them around when he feels the saltiness against her cheeks, his hands travelling up her back to grab her slightly shaking shoulders. He pulls her down, twisting himself sideways as he moves to settle himself atop her, their bodies slick with the heat of the night and the fire of their long suppressed passions.

He cups her cheeks with both hands, forcing her to meet his eyes as he begins to drive slowly, eyes unblinking, focused, comforting. If only she knew there's a fire of uncertainty blazing right behind the surface, making him confront the gruesome images of a blood-soaked battlefield the colour of her hair.

Her beautiful Scarlet hair.

He's thrown back into the dark recesses of his past almost immediately; the kind which is painted with the murkiest shade of black, yet there's this one corner, one special corner, that's glowing like it's god's own miracle.

It's through this blinding haze that he sees her short scarlet hair and the shackles on her tiny wrists as she looks up at him with hope in her eyes.

He sees the hurt, the pain in her eyes when he grabs her by the neck and shoves her away from his life as if their journey together had been nothing but a sham.

He sees the anger in her eyes as he murders a dear comrade, desecrates the dead and runs behind a dream that can only be described as a red herring.

He sees the love in her eyes, back when they'd met for the first time in seven years after her disappearance at Tenrou, and now as she moves underneath him with the force of his thrusts, her eyes somewhere between being glazed over and focused single-mindedly on him.

He decides it's worth giving his battle prowess a shot in that instance. That it's worth fighting with an eye on victory despite all odds being against their side in the battle tomorrow. That it's worth every goddamn thing in this world to think about coming back into this lady's arms every night after the end of this war.

It's a fight that he has to fight within himself over and above any and everything else.

She buckles first, her nails digging into his shoulder as she shudders underneath his heaving frame, eyes screwed shut as she lets her peak ride through her in a massive wave. She's muffling a scream, yet the effort itself seems to produce enough evidence of their activities behind closed doors. They, however, don't care. The basecamp is probably full of many such _clandestine _affairs happening right now precisely because tomorrow looks like a big question mark from where they all stand.

"Erza…" the name comes out as a hasty compromise between a grunt and a whisper as seeing her come becomes the equivalent of attaining his nirvana, his moksha for Jellal. He bites his lip and looks intently at the way she comes undone before his eyes, his hips driving a mad rhythm of their own accord as he strives to join his lover in bliss. It doesn't take him too long to catch up.

One second, their minds had been a muddled mess of emotions and premonitions. Another second, replete with the crashing waves of euphoria.

Now they are a haunting void.

All memories, both worth cherishing and worth burying, ebb away into the unreachable distance, moving away before their very eyes as they struggle to gather their wits. Holding each other tight for the much needed support, both watch as their meagre moments spent together fizzle away into oblivion, being replaced with the wretchedness of their current circumstances. They can feel their heartbeats going back to normal as they lie chest to chest, one looking listlessly at the ceiling above, the other staring at the surface of the sweat soaked pillows.

Whatever conversation, whatever feelings that get expressed during this impasse are conveyed through the steady rhythm of their beating hearts. They can feel it against each other's skin and bones as they lie trapped in a junction between past and future, yet a junction that cannot be called the present.

It's a state both somatic and spiritual, reachable yet unreachable, and they lie in this personal world of theirs till the first rays of the sun strike down upon the battlefield as the first offensive of the impending war.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

They cut through the enemies like they were born to do it.

She, The Titania, Queen of Fairies, and he, The prodigal Son of the Stars.

There are no tales to be told, no chains to withhold, and they go at it like every move is their last – every breath, their last.

It's a lesson they learnt from that one night in the tiny camp tent, their passion behind locked doors, translating smoothly into passion of a different kind on the battlefield.

The kind that flares up in response to something you wish to protect – something you wish to continue cherishing.

Time passes like a blur on this blood-soaked field thereafter, both sides taking the full brunt of war and then climbing back up onto their feet in a process that goes around in circles.

It looks like a never ending cycle, yet, it does, indeed, come to a certain end.

Like how everything in this transient world is meant to.

They stand together after it all, tall and proud; one, The Titania, Queen of Fairies, the other, The Prodigal Son of the Stars. They are among many others from their side as they plant the flag of their victory onto this historic battlefield.

They then look at each from two sides of a stretch of land laden with corpses. It isn't an appealing sight, yes. Nor it is the right time and place, but they had stopped reading too much into situations the precise moment they had decided to close the distance that night. Separated by a grim reminder of the event of the past few days, they simply stand and look into each other's direction, their hearts knowing what their eyes couldn't see from the distance.

Their passion has burnt the enemy to ashes.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

It's celebration night at the camp, and there's celebration of a different kind happening in that one tent.

The bed's the same; so are the sweat soaked pillows and the poor, toppled over bedside lamp.

The only thing that's missing is that void left behind, and the haunting reminder that nothing's fixed and stable.

Fortunately for them, they had unwillingly staked their hopes on the wrong aspect of their lives to remain stable.

The aspect that had kept them apart for so long.

And now, as they lie together in bed, shoulder to shoulder, eyes staring up into the green canvas of the tent ceiling, they decide they have both figured out the meanings of their existences.

"Were you afraid Jellal? Afraid we might never be able to see each other again?" Erza throws the question after long contemplation, somehow captivated by the slight wrinkles on the cloth that makes up the portion of the tent she's looking up at. "Will you be afraid...now?"

She knows Jellal understands that she isn't just talking about the war here. She trusts him enough to know he can figure out the question to the answer she longs to hear.

"I was…yeah," Jellal begins, wasting no time as he too, stares up at the very wrinkles Erza's so fascinated with. "But…" he pauses here, waiting for a reaction which he gets in the form of a hitched breath.

"…but I don't think I will be…now."

He knows she's smiling. He can feel it happening when he lets his own lips pull up into a gentle one in immediate reaction. Their hands come together in that instance, and he takes the opportunity to pull her towards himself so that she's able to lie on top of his chest and feel rather than hear his answer in the wild beating of his heart.

The pieces which had been hopelessly scattered a few days ago have finally managed to find their way back home.

Whatever they wish to say to each other is left unsaid in that moment which is neither a hangover from the past, nor a call from the future.

It's a junction called Present; and it is in this thing called Present that they decide to live a life they have denied themselves for so long.

With a passion that helped them overcome the burdens of their pasts. A passion that has brought their enemies to the ground. A passion that will help them light their way into a future fashioned by their will to see the end together.

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**"Prodigal Son of the Stars" cracked me up.**

**See you tomorrow with prompt no.2, Cake!**


	2. Cake

**Time for some Jellal torturing!**

**Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima.**

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**-DAY TWO-**

**Cake**

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Imagine sitting in a meeting of prime importance, heads of all important dignitaries turned in your direction as you make an important presentation on a new legislation you're planning to introduce in the country of Fiore.

You are Jellal Fernandes, Chairman, Magic Council, and it's your duty to make sure your plans are well thought out and critiqued by the board before the Bill is passed on to the Representatives in the Parliament. It's a big responsibility and you've to make sure you give it your best shot because slacking while holding an important position of authority is the gravest sin that you can commit.

But then, your eyes fall on a strawberry themed phone case one of the council members sitting in the front is carrying (yes, you heard that right folks) and you stop dead in your tracks. The world around you comes to a grinding halt as the bright red strawberries on that goddamn cover hit you in the eyes like that's the only thing you should be able to see in the room.

You feel that peculiar sensation in the pit of your stomach that's the best thing to feel only when you're in your bedroom with your wife of two years, not in the great council chamber at Era, heading a meeting as the Chair.

You decide you have seen Satan himself.

You thank your stars because you're articulate and gifted when it comes to steering a professional conversation along its proper course. You stumble for the minutest part of a second, but then you gulp down your sudden anxiety and try getting back to the topic, fumbling with the important papers in your hands and pretending to adjust the lacrima projector to ensure that the presentation's working fine on the gigantic screen behind you. You take another short pause to assess any damage caused. Fortunately, a quick look around the oval table suggests no one noticed your final slip-up and you take a clandestine breath of relief before continuing with the presentation.

Now the question is, has luck ever been on your side, son?

What do _you_ think?

Of course _not, _son. Like there was ever a doubt here. (Because if there has been a doubt, you've sadly been deluded all your life).

Luck is that one aspect of your troubled existence that will follow you around like a shadow but will never extend its hand to shelter you against that long list of misfortunes you are bound to suffer from.

This is destiny, my son. This is destiny in its rawest form.

So, going ahead with this idea, it shouldn't come as a surprise to you when Mr Doranbolt, your important associate and fellow council member, god bless his soul, raises a hand to solve a query that's been eating at his mind for the past few minutes. You relent, seeing as the Bill you're planning to introduce does require careful consideration and a thorough discussion. What you don't understand is that once bad luck gives you a signal with something as simple as a phone case, you bloody well pay heed to the signs and back the hell off.

Of course, such details merely slip through the gaping holes in your much talked about intelligence as you let Doranbolt proceed with a question that has something to do with a group of evil bandit mages who leave behind a strawberry (yes you heard that right folks) marked with a strange symbol every single place they rob to mark their success.

Now, you should be the wise man here and try to understand the meaning behind this strange symbol that somehow seems connected to the bill you're trying to introduce (the bill that's called The Fiore Protection of People Against Dark Mages Bill – a bill as mighty as the name itself suggests). Unluckily, your mind seems to be stuck on only one aspect of Doranbolt's query.

Well, the goddamn strawberry, of course.

You immediately have this very strong urge to cross your legs in an awkward standing position because there's sure as hell some hanky panky going on inside your pants all of a sudden.

"Are you okay Mr Fernandes?" an aged and kind council member by the name of Ms Barnes asks you from one of the seats near to you (not the woman with the blasted phone case, though), and you're forced to forge a sweet smile that's the complete antithesis of the storm that's raging inside your heart.

Because if you are to correctly express the torrential downpour of emotions that's shaking you up inside-out – and also deep within the recesses of your nether regions – you'd probably be accused of harassing a poor octogenarian.

So you keep quiet and endure. What is that mantra your young daughter keeps chanting a lot these days?

Ah yes.

Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let them know.

So you do exactly this, biting the inside of your cheeks as you try turning around in that awkward cross-legged position with a growing awareness of some other form of growth happening down below. It's suddenly ten degrees hotter in the room and you're practically blabbering by this point. The council members are looking concerned and are starting to shift uncomfortably in their seats, looking incredulously at your face as you try explaining the Bill to them while standing in a position that suggests your bladder's about to burst.

They only have to raise the hem of your robes slightly to take a glance at the ugly truth.

And we, of course, don't want that to happen.

So you're the happiest, most blessed person in the world when Doranbolt - oh god _really _bless his soul - decides to take pity on you and calls for a lunch break, ending your misery within seconds. You're as ecstatic as you haven't been in quite a while and you make the mistake of concluding that lunch break would be your much awaited Samaritan. You untangle your legs and discretely move the front of your robes around a little, making sure nothing suspicious is visible through the spotless white of the fabric.

Of course, you have miserably failed to acknowledge the fact that strawberry cakes are apparently a popular dish to serve for dessert around this part of the world.

So imagine your surprise as you practically glide through the appetizers and main course with an uncharacteristically huge grin on your face, only to stop dead in your tracks when a humongous, multi-tiered cake lined with farm fresh strawberries appears before you like that's the last piece of cake on earth to be served.

You start wondering if now's the right time to slam your face into that stupid piece of confectionery and choke yourself to a pathetic death.

"Have some! Have some!" Ms Barnes is saying right next to you, offering pieces around the table with much enthusiasm and you find yourself crossing your legs again as something naughty begins to transpire at the meeting of your thighs. (Your disco stick's _certainly _doing the disco down there by this point, no doubt about that sir, thank you very much).

It only takes Ms Barnes' completely innocent attempt at trying to shove a bite down your throat for you to crack and give in to a recent memory you've been trying hard to avoid.

What was that thing I said about luck a couple of paragraphs back?

Yes. The fact that you don't have any by your side.

So you sit there feeling like the bastard offspring of an old pervert and the world's biggest loser because you are suddenly presented with an image of your naked wife as you now try making your way out of the dinner without having to let your character be assassinated. It's a tough thing to do, a tough game to play, and you, my friend, are on the losing side because the vivid memory does not end with your wife strutting around in her birthday suit.

Oh no no.

It delves deeper into the perverted corners of your mind, unearthing instances that should only be brought out when you're bent purposefully over a toilet seat in the absence of some much needed action.

And seeing as how the triggers have been thrown full in your face with abandon, you find yourself at the mercy of a sudden onslaught of memories that should surface any time but now.

Your wife, naked and beautiful, walking gracefully into the room on the occasion of your second marriage anniversary, a piece of strawberry cake in her hand and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Your wife, lithe and playful, setting the cake carefully on the nightstand and dipping a finger simultaneously into that big mass of cream before she climbs onto the king-sized bed.

Your wife, elegant and artistic, as she takes that cream covered finger, smears the substance in a perfect line over her perfect breasts, and then uses the same finger to beckon you towards herself.

Your wife, the great and mighty Titania, Erza Scarlet, as she then proceeds to cover herself in cream as if it's the hot new outfit from her collection.

You are pretty sure that by this point, anything can happen.

Like your pants tearing down the middle from all that strain, for instance.

You jump up like you've been sitting on lava, hands raising automatically in a pathetic gesture of apology as you make a beeline for the men's washroom. It isn't a long journey, thankfully, and by the time you annex a cubicle all to yourself, you're pretty sure there's no saving your underpants now. A new pair's in order.

This is, perhaps, the most soul-shatteringly embarrassing moment of your life, and the thing that makes it all the more excruciating is the fact that you've just been one upped by a piece of strawberry cake.

Yes you, the Chairman of Fiore's Magic Council, flattened like a badly made pancake against the floor because you cannot, for the life of you, handle your wife's ability to be creative in bed.

Because you just cannot, being the sob that you are, handle some fresh strawberry cream against your wife's posterior.

You flush the toilet without any aim or purpose, contemplating jumping into that cupful of drain water because that certainly seems like the most appropriate thing to do given your wretched condition.

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**Because a strawberry cake is more metal than Jellal can ever be. That absolute dork.**

**Next prompt: Family**


	3. Family

**Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima.**

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**DAY 3**

**Family**

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The winds blowing inwards from the open seas were cool and soothing, but to a young woman whose heart had been torn asunder by circumstances inevitable, they weren't any different from the coarse grains of sand scraping her soles.

Meredy sat with her knees drawn to her chin, young yet wise eyes staring into the open space stretching like a majestic canvas before her; a representation of all that life had to offer if she made the effort to wipe her tears and dust down her soiled robes.

Turns out, there are a hell lot of things in this world that are easier said than done.

She picked and separated the tiny granules of powdered stones by her feet, pressing them almost painfully between the tips of her thumb and index fingers as she continued her observation of the tinge of pink and purple that had begun to spread just a little above the horizon. The sun was setting in the distance amidst a brilliant display of scarlet and purple for the world to marvel at, and all she could do at a time like this was sport the tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks.

She could see her Ul in the distance, her smile brightening the very sky before her eyes.

"You do know you look better this way, don't you?" a familiar voice pulled her out of her reminiscences, followed by a comforting hand that was placed snugly around her shoulders from her right.

"I agree, you look prettier with your lips pulled up like that." The second voice was familiar too, and the hand that followed around her shoulders was smaller than the first one, yet equally warm and comforting.

In her daze, as she'd sat staring single-mindedly at the horizon, Meredy hadn't realised that a small smile had cut across her lips in response to the imagined smile of a special someone.

The sudden realisation of this slip up produced an antithetical reaction in her and she had the day and the occasion to blame it all on.

"I'm sorry…I-" she began, her voice cracking under the strain as she tried not to let the tears fall, putting up the façade corresponding to her famed sanguinity. It hurt her very soul to do something not very befitting of the situation.

"It's okay, you know?" Jellal said softly from her right, taking his time doing so as he let her fight against the thunder of emotions raging inside her. He was patient as always, his arms encircling her shoulders in an embrace that expressed what words sometimes couldn't; he would be there for her, even at times she would think she didn't need help, letting her take her time with the burden of a long and gruesome process of a healing heart.

"Yeah… I know," Meredy croaked therefore, not bothering to wipe her tears as she let her head tilt a little to the right to rest on Jellal's welcoming shoulder. To her left, Erza's hands also tightened its grip on her and gave her a gentle squeeze to assure its soothing presence.

"I know letting the tears show is important sometimes, but I'll still go with what I said earlier," she said, her eyes observing the setting sun as if she knew exactly what Meredy had been looking for in it. "You look prettier when you smile."

The crack of a grin that lit up Meredy's features in response couldn't have been stopped. Here, on the occasion of Ultear's possible third death anniversary, she sat with two people she never knew would become so dear to her one day. It was possibly the most random assortment for a trio sitting along a shore this way, the two older ones on the sides, cradling the one in the middle in honour of a relationship that was cast in iron despite the glaring absence of any filial bonds. Meredy was confident that Ultear's last words were responsible for cementing not just one relationship, but several others that would have crumbled away to dust, had it not been for the message she'd left for all to ponder upon.

"Thanks," she said to the skies, but also to the two people holding her like they had no other business in the world, smiling as she let herself drown into the warmth exuding from both sides. Unbeknownst to her, Jellal and Erza quietly intertwined their fingers behind her back, sharing a significant look over her shoulder as they, too, raised a silent gesture in gratitude towards the skies.

**_Thirty years later_**

The view was even more pleasant from her position in the verandah.

Seated on a rocking chair (definite proof of the presence of an aging owner) that she swung back and forth aimlessly and without a particular rhythm, Meredy heartily enjoyed the scene unfurling before her eyes in the garden laid out majestically before the Fernandes mansion.

"Gramps! To the pond!" a young red haired girl was screaming delightedly while seated atop her poor grandpa, urging him to ferry her towards a fish pond present several feet away from where they were currently ambling. "Hurry hurry!"

"Are you sure you want to do this honey?" Erza Scarlet was asking, standing just a little distance behind the duo and giggling not so covertly into her hands. She was talking more to her husband than to her granddaughter, her hands held out in preparation to make sure her precious baby did not fall off her seat in her enthusiasm. "Wendy did mention something about the possibility of a slip disc…" she let her words hang with a taunting edge to them as she tried hard not to laugh shamelessly again.

A tiny, yet perfectly audible grunt from the makeshift horse made even Meredy giggle all the way back at the veranda.

"THE POND IT IS!" Jellal Fernandes declared confidently while on all fours, trying very hard to keep the grimace from appearing on his face. He carefully moved his arms and legs forward, careful of his bones and muscles as he tried to fulfil his grandchild's desires.

"The pond's still far away, you know?" Erza was teasing again, giggling simultaneously as she watched her husband attempt a horse ride that his body was not as capable of delivering as it had been a couple of years ago. The tiny bunches of white amongst his blue hair was testimony to this fact.

A very audible grunt cut through the air in response to the taunt and both Erza and Meredy burst out laughing, unable to hold back any longer. Young Rose Scarlet also joined in that little celebration, completely oblivious to the real reasons behind such, well, merrymaking. Her laughter and delight was what made it possible for Jellal to crawl all the way up to the distant pond, not without stopping every five minutes to take a quick gulp of breath.

When they finally reached their destination and Erza reprimanded Jellal for even attempting such a "stunt" in the first place as he tried to straighten his slightly crackling bones, Meredy took in the scene like a breath of fresh air. It'd been so long since that one episode at the beach, and she couldn't help but simply look on in awe as the reality of the rapidly changing times caught up with her.

She'd seen so much happen over the years; new relationships had been forged, old ones had been strengthened and all negativities had been gradually removed. It was like a dream that had finally come true despite a fair share of trials and tribulations – the difficulties making it all the more satisfying for them to finally enjoy the fruits of their patience and persistence. She looked heavenwards and sighed, her eyes dry but full of emotions nonetheless.

"You're seeing this Ur, aren't you?" she whispered, and she turned to look back at a beautiful family that had meant the world to her all these years. She could feel her Ur smiling and laughing along, showering them with her blessings from the faraway place that she'd gone to.

"Thanks for everything," Meredy said, easing back on the rocking chair and continuing her observance of the shenanigans happening near the pond. "And keep watching us, like this. Always."

**_Bonus!_**

"I hate to interrupt here, but I don't think that's how it's done."

Meredy looked up from where she was busy changing her newborn's soiled diaper, a little miffed as she tried understanding which thing went where. In her hand was a strange contraption of cotton that looked intimidating enough to give her a nervous breakdown.

"How does this thing even work?" she sighed, her shoulders sagging as she looked sideways at Jellal.

"If you don't mind?" he offered, taking pity on his poor younger sister as she tried dealing with the many travails of her newly bestowed motherhood. There were dark circles underneath her eyes and Jellal was not strong enough to see her crumble under so much pressure. He took the diaper in his hand as if he was born to hold it so professionally and purposefully.

"Here. Let me give it a try."

Moving aside, Meredy observed carefully as Jellal went about cleaning the newborn's poo with the wipes and then placed the diaper snugly around his tiny hips as if he'd been doing this regularly for years.

Meredy gave a slow clap. "Holy…" she whispered, as he then proceeded to hold the baby boy expertly in his hands to put him to sleep. One minute of walking around the room with a melodious song on his lips, and the boy was asleep like he hadn't just been shrieking his lungs out a few seconds ago.

Meredy looked on in awe.

"You're a pro." She declared, and Jellal smirked as he placed the boy in his cot.

"I've looked after five babies by now, Meredy," he exclaimed proudly. "My children and their grandchildren. It would be a disgrace if I didn't know how to handle babies by now."

Meredy nodded, eyes still wide in amazement. "It shows, yeah." She looked pointedly at the patches of white on his head, and then immediately looked away as if she hadn't just insinuated anything.

Jellal stiffened at that and looked on in betrayal at a seemingly oblivious Meredy.

Erza Scarlet snorted not so inconspicuously from the doorway.

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**(A/N): Because I think Jellal and Meredy (AND Erza by extension) would share a very special relationship. Also, a dorky Jellal insecure about his age is the fuel that keeps me going.**

**Next up, Reunion!**


	4. Reunion

**Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima**

* * *

**Day Four**

**Reunion**

* * *

**A/N: **_Because love isn't all sunshine and daisies. And Jellal is an imperfect dork who's a little too hard on himself._

* * *

The journey back home is long and winding, but it all cuts down to a miracle.

His boots are scraping heavily against the rough surface of the pavement peppered with some snow, but the minuscule screech that tugs along is a minor nuisance.

Before him stands a guild he had once been convinced to call home. He smirks to himself as he throws the hood off his face and takes a deep breath in the cold winter morning.

The chill that greets him upon the intake dissipates the moment he sets his eyes on a figure standing quietly by the guild gates.

It's been roughly ten years and she still has the power to take his breath away.

"You're late," she says simply, arms folded, eyes set determinedly on him. He's unable to gauge the depth of the emotions glazing in her irises, but he figures it's something between anger and acquiescence; a hasty compromise that makes her expression look somewhat comical in a situation that's anything but that.

The simplicity of this situation, of this reunion, strikes him unpleasantly in the gut.

Ten years of an inevitable separation, and she has to somehow make it look like those years had meant absolutely nothing.

"Yeah," he responds therefore, although he knows perfectly well that's not the kind of response he should be giving at the moment. His fingers are crossed underneath the thick gloves he's wearing and his overcoat, having been drawn up to his chin, is thankfully concealing the mess that's his heart in the name of emotions. The guilt in his eyes can be seen from miles away, yet, he doesn't seem to think the ten years behind him had been a bad decision.

Now this is exactly the point where the dilemma and the doubt start eating at him from within – and the process particularly intensifies when he looks into her eyes.

"Come," she says, standing a little straighter and nonchalantly brushing some snowflakes off her shoulders. "I'll show you around. Magnolia's changed a lot, you know?"

He stands there like he's invisible to the world – a speck of blue and black in the snow covered fields of Magnolia. His heart thumps in an unprecedented manner as she casually walks towards him with the intention of guiding him around the city for the purpose of sightseeing.

Nothing has hurt Jellal Fernandes more in the thirty eight years of his existence.

All she has to do is make it look as though nothing's different from what it used to be ten years ago.

"You won't believe the kind of changes this city has seen in the past few years. Do you see that tower in the distance?" she's pointing at a ginormous structure present a good distance away in the direction of the woods. Jellal nods mutely.

"That's a famous tourist spot these days. Was built exactly a year ago. You can go up to the top floor and get a stunning view of the city and the mountain ranges beyond. We get a lot more revenue from tourism thanks to that tower. We'll go check that out sometime later, okay?"

Jellal keep his silence.

"That park there? It's been renovated. We have a beautiful pond smack in the middle of it now. It's a good place to spend some quality time with friends and family during weekends. It's all frozen now. Of course." She chuckles lightly and Jellal hangs on to his precious silence as he follows her down a street that looks like a market place.

"We have started hosting winter carnivals, you know? It was big news a couple of years ago. Not sure if you've heard of it or not though," Erza explains, pointing at the crowd that's gathered around small shops and kiosks spread evenly on both sides of the street they are traversing. Jellal nods again, indicating he has heard of this new development.

"It's amazing. Really! Not as good as the Harvest festival, but amazing nonetheless. Fairy Tail participates in a different manner for this one though. Gray obviously becomes our main attraction during this time of the year," she's smiling again, her cheeks dusted with a tinge of pink that's probably a result of both the chilly winds and her genuine happiness as she thinks about her guild-mates and their shenanigans. It's a sight to behold.

"Oh yes! There's the new shop!" she says all of a sudden, grabbing Jellal by his hand and dragging him towards a tiny shop around the corner of the street. There's a twinkle in her eyes that's blinding and hits him squarely in the heart. He cannot look at her – it's too unbearable an experience. The rucksack he's carrying is somehow becoming heavier by the second.

"Cherry's! They have some of the most amazing strawberry cakes I've tasted. They have patrons all over Fiore. I feel kinda sad about the ones who ran this business before Cherry's came up, but well, can't help it with the competition. You should definitely try out some of their specials. They are worth every penny!"

There's a sinking feeling in the pit of Jellal's stomach by this point. He's watching her parade him through the streets of a changed Magnolia, yet there's nothing in her movements, nothing in her countenance to suggest the change has seeped into her as well. She looks the same, sounds the same, and feels the same as he stands next to her. The shame in him strikes as a searing pain in the chest, and he's left breathless on the spot as she urges him to move towards their next destination – a museum dedicated to the founders of Fairy Tail.

He doesn't even make it halfway to the building that's just a few streets down.

"I… why…_why?" _he bursts out, unable to hold the questions in any longer. He'd been astounded the moment he'd seen her standing so simply, so dispassionately at the guild entrance, leaning against the iron gates as if she'd known he would be coming. It's been ten years – a decade that's worth a lifetime – and she still seems unfazed about his decision to move out on a self-exile in his quest for some inner peace, ten years ago.

Turns out, inner peace is not something you'll always achieve by travelling the world in solitude.

He has stopped in the middle of the road and she's a few steps ahead of him, her eyes set determinedly ahead. She's not moving, nor is she uttering a word. They stand like this for about a minute, before he notices her shoulders slump a bit.

"Come with me," is all she says, before she turns down a narrow lane that's away from the supposed museum, and he's left a pathetic mixture of dumbstruck and anxious.

He follows her nevertheless.

The lane's quieter and sparsely populated, dotted on the sides by a well-kempt row of exotic flowers, befitting a city named after a beautiful flower itself. These are winter blossoms, smiling happily in the face of some falling snow that's dotting the landscape, but Jellal isn't interested in their beauty as he walks past rows and rows of them. All he's looking at is the determined form of a female walking in front of him, leading him towards a destination unknown. A tight knot in his stomach indicates he's not ready for whatever destiny has in store for him from this point on.

She takes turns at many a corners and walks him down many a streets, before she finally leads him up a path that's winding up into a hill overlooking the forest lying on the other side of the city. To his left, Cardia Catheral stands tall in all its glory.

Endless walking through the different landscapes of Fiore comes in handy when he makes his way up the slightly steep climb.

"Follow me," Erza says in a flat tone as she escorts him to a spot right at the top – an open area that doesn't look like it's frequently used by the residents, but beautiful enough to become Magnolia's next best tourist spot. It is from here that one can see the forest on one side and the city on the other. Erza makes him walk towards a particular spot higher up than the rest.

"I used to come here every day," she says simply, pausing and turning to look into the direction of the forest. It's a curious blend of white and green from where they are standing.

"The forest opens up into the other cities of Fiore from this point…cities I knew you'd be visiting. I thought I could see you from here…that I could feel your presence from here. And I did…in a way." She pauses, and Jellal continues to look at the horizon, too afraid and ashamed to utter a word.

"It was a strange feeling you know? Not only when I sat here looking into the distant lands, but also the day you decided to leave and left that note behind. I call it strange because I wasn't mad…never was, never will be. Somehow, I knew your exile had been a long time in the making. I looked at it like it was an inevitable outcome of everything that we've been through since the time we first met at the tower."

There's another pause. Longer and heavier this time.

"I…" Erza takes a deep breath here. "I've never blamed you for anything, Jellal. The decision was yours and yours alone. I never could have had a chance to stop you from doing what you thought was necessary for you. I am no one to decide that. I will never be. You did what was important for you to develop as a person and I stood by it. I still stand by it, and I'll always stand by it…"

"…just…don't think of this as an act I'm putting up to guilt-trip you. I don't resent you for anything, Jellal. I… I _can't _resent you for anything," her voice is heavier than usual at this point.

Jellal shifts uncomfortably on his feet and chances a sideway glance. He can see her eyes, burning golden in the light of the early morning rays. There's a determined set to her shoulders and a certain rigidness to her posture, but only he can tell that every word she utters is true in all senses. Her quivering lips and her intense gaze give out such details.

"It's been ten years Erza," he says, turning back to look at the endless stretch before his eyes. "Ten years is a long time. I never would have thought…" he trails off here, suddenly feeling insignificant in light of the confession made before him. His heart has begun to collapse in on itself.

"You thought I would forget you? That I would move on?" she completes his sentence for him, her voice quivering so slightly that one would have to concentrate hard to notice. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I don't have a switch inside that I can turn on and off at will. I have told you once and I'm not going to repeat this again. I don't hold anything against you. I never could have."

"…Ten years is a long time, yes, but the distance was nothing compared to the peace you would have missed out on had you decided to stay back. I'm happy you were able to achieve what you'd aimed for. I'm happy." She turns to look at him, her lips trembling but pulled up into a genuine smile at the same time. There is that passion in her eyes – passion that has kept him alive all these years.

He breaks under the strain and nostalgia, and he breaks _hard._

"Forgive me!" he gives in, despite knowing there's nothing he can possibly apologize for because the person concerned doesn't hold him responsible for anything. "Forgive me. Erza! I thought it'd be worth something. It was! I thought it was! But that was before I saw you waiting at the gates! I have seen places in and around Fiore! I travelled for ten years, thinking I was finding something new about myself with every new place that I visited, but…but, everything came crashing down when I saw you again! It hurts, Erza! It's _hurting_ now…I…" he stops when he realises there's a tear trickling down his cheek.

It's true. He has always been under the impression that his decision was correct. He has held on to this belief for the past ten years and he had been confident about it until the point he crossed the boundary into the city of Magnolia. The guild gates had been the first blow; Erza, the second and the major one. One look at her forgiving eyes and he knew he'd been wrong all this time.

Perhaps, this is an outlook he's gained through his experience of travelling abroad. Perhaps, this realisation has dawned on him precisely because he's a changed person from his little _adventure. _Whatever's the case, there _is _no denying the fact that the past ten years of his life have been nothing but a haunting void in the absence of the woman he will continue loving for an eternity. He may or may not have learnt a little more about himself in the foreign fields outside the warm embrace of a waiting lover, but there's certainly a thing or two he has learnt in her presence.

He's always been, and will always be incomplete without her.

"Hold my hand," she commands, and Jellal finds himself seeking the warmth of her hands through the fabric of their gloves. She's contemplating something from what he can see through the corner of his eyes, and it turns out to be something good when she gently tugs on his hand and urges him to face her.

The next thing he knows, there are warm and supple lips pressing into his mouth. His heart skips a beat.

"Welcome home," she whispers against his lips, which he then pulls up into a small, but the most genuine of smiles he has sported in ten years.

It's been a decade of separation, uncertainty and lots of pain. He's been a fool – a fool of the highest order – and she's waited patiently, urging him on through the years with a connection that unites them on a spiritual level. Yet, looking through the foggy glass that's his past, he realises there's still a lifetime worth of happiness ahead of them if he so much as puts the first foot forward.

He's positive that he's never making the same mistakes again.

* * *

**(A/N): ** **Just Jellal being the hardcore atoner that he is. I get a kick out of epic love stories with long separations and reunions.**

**Next prompt: Protect**


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